Doodles
by writingbutunpublished
Summary: Minho and Thomas are both artist that start an unlikely friendship when Thomas's dog keeps Minho up all night. He sends him a drawing expressing his displeasure that starts an unlikely friendship...and perhaps more.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Minho Kim groaned and looked at his bedside clock. He had to be up early to make that meeting with his agent and this was the fourth time he had been awakened by the sound of barking and whimpering coming from upstairs in the past two hours. He heard a feline growl from the corner of the room. "Don't look at me, Achilles." He grumbled.

The dog must be massive because its bark was deep and menacing and could be easily heard over the howling of the wind outside. He heaved himself out of bed, grumbling about irresponsible pet owners and stumbled to the bathroom. He quickly found the bottle of sleeping pills in his highly organized medicine cabinet and tossed one back with a cup of water from the sink. A mere hour later he was finally drifting off into a dreamless sleep.

...

Around 10:00 that morning, Thomas Mitchel woke slowly, scrubbing his face with the palm of his hand in an attempt to clear the cobwebs. He tried to sit up but couldn't. He looked down at the big mound of fur resting on his chest.

"Get off you jerk." He grumbled and pushed ineffectively at the mound. Thomas's Saint Bernard lifted his head and looked at his owner blearily. "Get off, Patroclus." Thomas said a bit more insistently and shoved again.

With a soft woof, Patroclus clambered over Thomas and landed with a loud thump on the floor. He trotted over to his food bowl and sat, waiting patiently.

Thomas shuffled to the kitchen and started his coffee. He pulled the dog food out from underneath the sink and dumped a generous portion into Pat's bowl, then headed to get his paper from the hallway. It wasn't until he stood, paper in hand that he saw the note. He pulled it off the door and walked back to the kitchen staring at it.

It wasn't so much a note as a drawing. It featured a man lying in bed with a pillow clamped around his head while a vicious looking dog barked and drooled above him. Neat handwriting below it read "Muzzle your hell beast!"

Thomas snorted into his coffee and looked over at Pat. "Hell beast, my ass." He grumbled.

His dog, who had spent the entire night crying because he was terrified of the storm, was currently sitting with his snout resting on the counter, begging Thomas for a treat.

"You kept me up most of the night and you made my neighbor mad at me." He said, earning a mournful look from Pat. "You aren't getting anything." He grumbled and headed in the direction of the bathroom. "Try not to destroy anything while I shower, will you?" he tossed over his shoulder.

….

Minho straightened his tie as he waited for his publisher to see him. He had used an entirely different style for this bid and he was anxious to find out what they thought. Finally he saw the tall, skinny Englishman round the corner.

"Minho, mate!" he shouted as Minho stood. "Have you been out here this whole time?" he asked, shaking Minho's hand.

"I wasn't waiting long, sir." Minho said.

"How many times have I told you to call me Newt?"

"Of course." He said. He wasn't sure how to take Newton Glade sometimes. "Newt." He added as an afterthought. He followed the other man into his office and they sat down.

"Look, mate," Newt began. "What you sent us is great stuff. I mean it."

Minho felt himself tense for the worst.

"But the author…wants to go in a different direction."

And there it was.

"Newt, that is the third author you've tried to pair me with that has decided to go in a different direction." He said, frustrated. "I'm starting to think Nate the Spy was a fluke."

"Nate the Spy was a hit." Newt said with a wave of a hand. "It was the biggest selling children's book in the country., But, Minho…I just haven't seen that caliber of work from you since." He said,. his face had softened with pity and Minho cringed, knowing what was coming. "Maybe you jumped into work to soon after…"

Minho scowled and cut him off. "You have no right." He said his voice low. "Just because you happened to be there when everything happened doesn't mean you have a right to talk about it. You're my agent not my life coach." And with that, he stormed out of the office, tossing a perfunctory "I'll call you later." Over his shoulder as he went.

He spotted the note on his door going down the hallway. He snatched it off, walking in without looking at it. It wasn't until after he had grabbed a beer from the fridge and sat down that he looked down at the crumpled piece of notebook paper. On it, someone had drawn a picture of a large window, rain lashing at the panes and a streak of lightning in the distance. Huddled in the corner was a man with a large, fluffy dog, who had a tear running down its furry cheek. The caption read "Patroclus has storm anxiety, be kind."

Minho snorted. It was a pretty great drawing, he admitted to himself. The artist, presumably his upstairs neighbor, had even included shading to indicate shadows in the room. And his dog was named Patroclus. He stood and went to his desk to make another doodle to send to his neighbor.

Thomas almost didn't hear the phone ring. He had stuck in his headphones and his music was blaring loudly. He grabbed the phone mid-ring. "Hello?" he said, his voice gruff.

"Working again, brother?" came the reply.

"Oh, hey, Teresa." He said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, I was working."

"You're always working." She complained.

"Well, it's a weekly book, Sis."

"Well, you're coming to lunch with me, no excuses. I have _news_." Teresa said.

"Fine." Thomas said with a grin. "Fry's, in 20 minutes?"

"See you there!" she squealed and hung up without saying goodbye.

Thomas shook his head and went in search of his shoes.

Twenty minutes later he was drinking a coke in a tiny diner a few blocks from his apartment. Teresa came sweeping in only a few minutes later. She pushed her oversized sunglasses on top of her head as she sat down.

"Hey, little sister." He said as she took a sip of his coke without a word.

"Hey!" she said brightly. "How's life?" she asked.

"You're staling and I'm going to let you…for now." He said. "Life is good. " he said, snatching his glass back and leaning back in the booth. "The others and I make a great team, and this new issue has seen a jump in pre-orders. We very well might land a spot on the Wickd Comics panel at SDCC next year." He said with a grin.

"Thomas, that's amazing." She said just as the waitress approached.

"Can I get, y'all anything else," the girl asked, order book in hand.

"A cheese omelet, a side of bacon, and a coke, please." Teresa said.

"Chef salad, no egg, dressing on the side." Thomas said, smiling at her.

"Alright, I have that right out for you." The waitress said with a wink.

"You eat like a rabbit." Teresa said and tossed a straw wrapper at him.

"I'm having a Coke." He protested, waving the glass in front of her face.

"You only have Coke when I'm around." She countered.

"What's your news?" Thomas.

Teresa straightened and pressed her palms to the table top. "You remember Aris?" she asked, staring at her hands instead of looking at him.

"Yeah…" Thomas said cautiously, cocking an eyebrow at her.

"Well…."she said then looked up smiling and plunged one hand into her coat pocket, pulling it out with a smile diamond ring on her finger. "I'm getting married!"

Thomas's eyes widened. "Oh, my god, T, that's great!" he said, getting up from the booth and coming around to wrap her in a huge hug. It was then that the waitress came back with their food.

He grinned at the other woman. "My baby sister is getting married." He said.

"Well congratulations." The waitress said with a warm smile.

They chatted happily for the rest of their meal and Thomas gave her one last hug before he headed back to his apartment.

He saw another note stuck to his door and snatched it up eagerly. He was ashamed to admit that he had kind of been looking forward to it. This one featured a large cat whose eyes seemed to glow on the page, scrawled underneath was "Achilles approves of your dog's name. Truce?" Thomas grinned and went to answer before he got back to work.


	2. Chapter 2

Minho got back from grocery shopping to find his neighbor's latest drawing. It depicted Minho's cat sitting next to the St. Bernard. The St. Bernard looked as innocent as ever but was howling with his head tilted back. The cat had ear plugs stuck in its pointed ears. Minho laughed at the caption, which just said "Best Friends Fur-ever."

The next morning, Minho woke feeling strangely upbeat considering the events of the past few months. He felt so good, in fact, that he decided to go for a run. He hadn't been on a morning run in so long he worried his body would rebel as he rode the elevator down.

He reached the lobby at the same time as someone coming out of the stairwell and stopped to stare. The guy was about his height, he thought, brown hair sticking out from underneath a beanie. Minho followed the line of one sculpted cheekbone as he examined the man's profile.

He must be going for a run as well, he decided. He was wearing running shorts and a t-shirt and had headphones stuck in his ears. Minho brought himself into the other man's line of vision and nodded. The man nodded back and pushed his way out the door, taking off running as soon as he cleared it.

Not entirely sure why, Minho followed after him. He wasn't stalking, he told himself. He simply happened to be running the same route. The fact that he was enjoying the way the guy looked in his running shorts was neither here nor there.

Eventually he caught up to the guy who nodded at him again. They kept pace with each other for some time before Minho had to drop back again. He really was out of shape compared to what he had been, but he was doing better than he thought he would.

While he had been lost in thought, his mystery man had dropped back to run beside him. They continued for nearly a block and Minho began to finally relax into it. He lost himself in the music blaring in his ears and the rhythm of his body. He remembered how to regulate his breathing and was doing a lot better before he realized that they had made a loop and were now headed back to the apartment building. When they reached the lobby, Minho received another nod as they parted ways, he to the elevator, and his mystery man to the stairwell.

Thomas headed straight to the shower when he got to his apartment and stood underneath the hot water, softly humming to himself. He had enjoyed his run more than usual that morning and he had a sneaking suspicion that it had everything to do with the guy he had run into in the lobby.

For some reason the fact that the guy had followed him on his run hadn't creeped him out in the slightest and it had been nice to run with someone for a change. Neither of them had spoken the entire time but there had been something calming about matching strides with the stranger.

It didn't hurt that the guy had been really cute, Thomas admitted to himself. He decided to think no more about it for the rest of the day. But he still caught himself looking forward to running tomorrow morning, a thing he had never looked forward to before and sometimes even avoided, and hoping his running partner would make a repeat performance.

Minho's phone rang just as he stepped out of the shower. He answered with one hand on his phone and the other holding a towel.

"Hello?" he said.

"Minho, mate!" Newt exclaimed.

"Oh, hey, Mr. Glade." Minho said a little coolly.

"Hey, now, none of that, now." Newt said. "I said I was sorry. Besides, I have good news for you."

"What kind of good news?" he asked.

"I caught wind of a writer in desperate need of a good illustrator and I managed to get you a meeting with her."

"Desperate?" he asked.

"The bloke that was doing her art backed out and now she publishes in two months and has no usable illustrations."

"Two months?" Minho said incredulously. "I don't know Newt, that's a pretty tight deadline."

"A cinch for you, mate." Newt said dismissively. "Besides, there's a lot of hype around this book. Could put you back on the map again." Newt knew those words would be like dangling a slab of bacon in front of a dog.

"When and where?" he asked. It seemed this author wasn't the only desperate one.

Thomas had worked like a fiend the whole day, despite his distraction. By the time he came up for air, he had finished inking the whole book and left them laid out on his table for the ink to dry for a few moments before he had it messengered to Wickd.

Now that he was no longer occupied by work, he couldn't help himself and went to go check his door for another note., But there wasn't one. He was oddly disappointed.

He went back to his desk to get his pages ready for the messenger and was interrupted by a knock.

Alby, one of the guys he worked with on the comic book, stood on the other side of the door.

"What's up, man?" Thomas asked and pounded him on the back.

"I'm blocked dude." Alby said, waving a flash drive around in front of Thomas's face. "Help?"

Thomas smiled and shook his head. "Fine, but you are buying the pizza this time." He said.

He and Alby worked until around 1:00 that morning. They had made great progress, plotting the story out for the next several issues. Thomas had even done some rough sketches. He crawled into bed that night rather pleased with himself.

The next morning he woke to find another note on his door and grinned. This one featured the cat and dog facing off against one another. The neat writing at the bottom read "If you keep making bad puns, the truce is off." Thomas laughed out loud and placed the note with the others in his drawer and got ready for his morning run.

His mystery man was in the lobby again., They ran together again, never speaking a word. He rather liked this odd friendship that had formed between them even though he didn't know the guy's name.

He showered and went quickly to work, humming a happy, made up tune.

Minho met Ava Paige in a tiny café around noon the next day. She greeted him with a warm smile.

"You must be Mr. Kim." She said, extending her hand for Minho to shake.

"Please, call me Minho." He said giving the woman's hand a firm, single shake before sitting down, his portfolio in his lap.

"Well, Minho, when they told me you were available I was just ecstatic." Ava said, sipping her coffee. "I love your work. Especially some of the recent stuff they have shown me."

"Really?" Minho was taken aback. He had been rejected many times over since he had started trying to find a new style.

"Oh, yes!" Ava said brightly. "I see you've been busy." She gestured to the portfolio case in his hands.

"Yes." Minho said, handing it over quickly.

Ava was silent as she looked over each page with a critical eye. Minho started to sweat.

Finally, Ava looked up at him and smiled. "I love it!" she exclaimed. "I do have some suggestions though, if you're willing to hear them."

"Absolutely." Minho said with a grin. He and Ava spent the better part of the afternoon making plans and he walked back to his apartment whistling happily.

When he walked through his door, he heard muffled music coming from the apartment above him. His neighbor must be home, he thought absently. He hadn't heard from him in a few days and he found he kind of missed it. Realizing that he had been staring and the ceiling, Minho dropped down into his desk chair. He pulled out the notes he had taken during his meeting with Ava and, for the first time in a long time, he felt excited about his work.


	3. Chapter 3

For the next month, Minho worked with Ava, ran with his mystery man, and exchanged drawings with his upstairs neighbor. He had to admit, he hadn't felt this good about his life in a long time. When he left Chicago 8 months ago he had hoped to leave what had happened there behind him, but he knew he hadn't. It still cast a shadow over everything.

He and his running partner had yet to speak to each other. He knew that it wasn't a coincidence that they kept running into each other in the lobby.

He had toyed with the idea of actually attempting to engage the other man in conversation, but he was afraid to break the spell of harmony and calm that settled over them both as they ran.

As for his upstairs pen pal, they began to pick up bits and pieces of each other through their little notes. One day curiosity overtook him and he asked, along with a drawing of his cat holding out his front paws in question, "How did you learn to draw like that?"

Minho didn't hear back for a few days and he was certain that he had offended the man until he arrived home from his final meeting with Ava and their publishers to see another note hanging on the door. This particular drawing had Minho standing at his door gaping.

While his neighbor's previous drawings had been more or less cartoon like, this was much more…well more. It was a story drawn in panels like a comic book. The level of detail was almost photographic, but it had been purposely blurred slightly in some places in order to draw focus where he wanted it.

The first panel featured a small boy being scolded for drawing in class. The next one was an older boy with an art school application on his desk. The next one was of the same boy shaking hands with an older Hispanic man who was saying "Welcome to WICKD Comics." The fourth and final was him hunched over a table, pencil in hand. A small rectangle in the corner read "Practice, my friend. Practice."

Minho grinned and walked into his apartment, suddenly desperate to change out of this suit and draw, purely for fun. He quickly changed into a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt and began to absently draw while the TV played softly in the background.

Over the next two weeks, Thomas continued to trade drawings with his downstairs neighbor and go on his morning runs with his silent company. He worked and walked his dog.

He had even fielded many calls from his sister informing him of her on- going wedding plans, which he only really had a passing interest in. He thought it was another such call when his phone rang one foggy Thursday morning.

"If this is about flowers or seating charts I don't want to hear about it." He said instead of a greeting.

"Huh?" came a decidedly male voice from the other end of the line.

"Jorge?" he said in bewilderment. "Sorry. I thought you were my sister."

"Never heard that before." Jorge said with a laugh.

"What's up." Thomas said, now embarrassed and ready to change the subject.

"I have some good news for you and your team." Jorge said. "I'd like to take you guys out to dinner this evening and tell you all at once."

"Sounds great." Thomas said. "Just text me the address and I'll meet you guys there."

"Will do." Jorge said and hung up without another word. Thomas rolled his eyes. He could never remember his boss ever ending a conversation properly.

That night he sat at the table with his team, Chuck, Alby, Gally, and Jorge.

"A toast." Jorge said suddenly, raising his glass. "To the members of WICKD's upcoming San Diego ComicCon!" he said the last with a sly look in his eye and waited for the announcement to sink in.

One by one the four other men smiled slowly. And then they all began to talk at once. Jorge allowed them to settle down somewhat before he spoke again.

"You boys have been working really hard and it shows in your work. This book was supposed to be a limited run and this is our second year. To Team Darkling!" he said and they all clinked their glasses together hard enough to slosh champagne all over the table.

Thomas stumbled back into his apartment around midnight, humming to himself. he dropped into his desk chair and began to draw absentmindedly on a piece of paper. When he was done he smiled at the result and realized he had drawn another note to his neighbor.

Seized with the kind of decision making that happens after 3 glasses of champagne and several shots of tequila (he didn't remember exactly how many shots of tequila but he was surprised he was standing right now) he headed upstairs to deliver his note.

He finally made it in front of his neighbor's door and squinted at the little clip that they had both stuck on their doors for this purpose. As he stood there, leaning slightly forward, squinting, unexpectedly fell forward on the door with a loud thump, causing him to giggle.

He looked down at the note in his hand and refocused on his task. Just as he finally remembered how to work the clip, his hand went through the open space where the door had been, shoving the drawing into the face of his neighbor.

He giggled again at the sight of spiked black hair poking out over top of the paper. Then he lowered it and gasped.

"YOU!" they both said in unison. Standing before Thomas was the man he had been running with every morning for the past few weeks.

"You're the artist!" Minho said. "And the runner!"

"Yep!" Thomas said a little too loudly. His ears turned pink. This man really was exceptionally cute and he was so drunk. He saw the other man wrinkle his nose slightly, probably at his breath, which must reek.

"Small world." Minho said, sticking his hands in his pockets as they looked at each other awkwardly. The other man wasn't very steady. Judging by that and his breath, Minho would say he was very drunk.

"I'm Thomas." He said loudly, making Minho jump.

"Minho." He said much more softly, offering his hand. Thomas took it and nearly stumbled again.

"Maybe we should go inside." Minho said and walked back into his apartment, waiting for Thomas to follow. When he turned around he gestured to the note in Thomas's hand. "Is that for me?" he asked.

"Oh, yeah." Thomas said, handing it over. He felt suddenly embarrassed about his drawing and he wasn't sure why.

He continued to avert his eyes while Minho examined the drawing, sneaking glances every now and then at his face. When he was done, he looked up at Thomas and smiled. "It seems like congratulations are in order." He said. His eyes crinkled when he smiled, Thomas noitced.

"Yeah, I guess." Thomas said to his shoes.

"You really are an extraordinary artist." Minho said. "You deserve it."

"Thanks." Thomas said. "You're not so bad yourself. I used to read Nate the Spy to my nephew. Well, he's not really my nephew. I don't have any yet. He's my friend Alby's kid…" he realized he was rambling. "Anyway, the illustrations are amazing."

"Thank you." Minho said, then they fell into silence again for several minutes.

"I should probably go." Thomas said. "Sleep it off. I'm not usually drunk." He added the last as an afterthought.

"Of course." Minho said and lead him back to the door. "Goodnight." He said softly.

"Goodnight." Thomas said and left, heading back downstairs feeling more sober than he did when he went up.


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning, Thomas opened his eyes and then immediately closed them again with a groan. Why had he drank that much? God, that was a terrible idea. As he lay there, bits and pieces of last night began to come back to him, including meeting Minho. He groaned again. The man must think he is an idiot.

He crawled out of bed and got in the shower, standing under the water until it started to run cold. Then he got out and dressed, trying not to make any sudden movements. Just as he was slipping his last sock on he heard a knock at the door.

"Someone had better be dying!" he shouted and opened the door to find Minho standing there, two cups of coffee in his hand.

"Morning, sunshine." He said, shoving one of the cups into Thomas's hand. "I thought you could use that."  
"Yeah. Thanks" Thomas mumbled. "Come in." he turned and went to the kitchen, not waiting to see if Minho would follow.

He did, as it turned out. Thomas heard his footsteps coming up behind him. "Do you want some oatmeal or something?" he asked him without turning around.

"No thank you." Minho said, looking around the apartment.

"My place isn't as clean as yours." He said, finally turning to look at the other man. "I'm not much of a house keeper."

Minho smiled kindly at him. "I've seen worse." He said, looking around again. "A lot worse."

"Yeah, well I may not put my laundry away, but I can cook." He said. "You sure you don't want something?"

Before he could answer, large paws skittered across the floor and Minho stumbled forward.

"Oh, Jesus. Pat get down!" Thomas shouted, then pressed his hand to his forehead.

"It's okay." Minho said with a laugh, turning and reaching down to pet the massive dog. "Friendly guy, isn't he?"

"You could say that." Thomas replied, watching him kneel down and scratch Pat's head. Minho was rewarded with a lick to the face, and he laughed, causing Thomas's mouth to quirk up automatically in response.

"Why don't you take him out with you in the mornings?" Minho asked. "Surely a dog this big needs to get out."

"Yeah I take him out, but he's not much of a morning person." Thomas explained. "He prefers to sleep in."

Minho smiled and nodded. "Achilles, is always up before me." He mused. "Usually sitting on my face."

Thomas snorted then groaned.

Minho clucked his tongue sympathetically. "Finish your coffee." He encouraged. "Then if you'll put your shoes on , I will take you to the best hangover food in the city."

Thomas nodded in acknowledgement of Minho's offer and downed the rest of the coffee. He wandered into his bedroom as Minho talked to his dog softly.

He reentered the room, shoes on, to see Pat put his front legs around Minho's neck, putting him off balance and knocking him to the floor. He was sure that the other man would be angry but Minho just laughed and shoved at the big dog to no avail.

"Oh, brother." Thomas grumbled. He went to Minho's aid. While Minho pushed, Thomas pulled and finally, the dog moved.

"As you can see, those obedience classes I paid for really paid off." Thomas said, offering his hand to Minho and hauling him to his feet.

"He's not ill behaved, he's just…affectionate." Minho said with a smile. "You ready?"

"Yeah."

He took Thomas to a small restaurant just a few blocks away. They were seated in a booth immediately and handed menus.

"Now the ultimate hangover cure is the chicken fried steak with redeye gravy." He said

Thomas found it quickly on the menu and read over it. "Are you kidding?" he asked "This has more calories than what I eat in a whole day. You eat like this all the time?"

"Pretty much." Minho said with a shrug.

"But you look like a Calvin Kline model." He said and then immediately blushed.

Minho laughed and blushed himself. "Well I run a lot. And I have a really high metabolism."

"Right," Thomas said. "The heart attack on a plate it is."

Hours later, Thomas and Minho finally returned to their respective apartment to work. Thomas thinking about the way that Minho had dug enthusiastically into his food, and Minho thinking about how Thomas had laughed at his story about the kid at a book signing that had puked on him.

They kept running together, although they stopped trading notes in favor of text messages and photos of the progress on their work. About three times a week, they could be found in each other's apartment.

Thomas cooked for Minho quite a bit after discovering that the other man couldn't cook to save his life. Minho discovered that Thomas ate very healthy meals and was absolutely appalled to find that Minho's own diet consisted mostly of take out and stuff you could make in the microwave.

They found out they both loved sports although there was many-a long debate about teams. As the time approached for Minho to turn his completed work in to the publisher for theirs and Ava's approval, he found himself spending a lot of free time at Thomas's place.

One night as they sat silently watching TV Thomas turned to him. "They're going to love it." he said simply.

Minho turned and opened his mouth to say something which must have read on his face because Thomas stopped him

"They loved the stuff you've sent them so far, haven't they?" he said.

Minho nodded.

"Then they're going to love this." He said and turned back to the TV without another word. After a few seconds he reached over and patted Minho's leg. The other man reached down and gave Thomas's hand a grateful squeeze.

They both jumped sometime later when Thomas's phone rang. He jumped up quickly and grabbed it, seeing his sister's picture on the screen.

He held up a finger to Minho and wandered into the kitchen. "Hey, sister." He said warmly.

"Heeeeyyy!" she said. "Whatcha doin?"

"Just hanging out with my neighbor." He said. "How much have you had to drink?"

"The artist neighbor?" she asked loudly

"Yeah." He said, turning his back to the living room.

Teresa made kissing noises into the phone before suddenly remembering that she had been asked a question. "We sampled reception cocktails today." She said in a stage whisper. "Lots of cocktails. The bartender we got is a kick."

Thomas shook his head. "I'm glad you're having fun. I'd better go and get back to my guest, sis." He said.

Teresa made more kissing noises and bid him goodbye and he went back to the couch. Minho raised a questioning eyebrow at him. "That was my sister." He said. "She's drunk. And getting married next week." Minho gave a short laugh, but said nothing. They continued watching TV in silence, neither one of them wanting to leave the other's company.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Teresa's wedding was drawing every closer and Thomas still didn't have a date. This wasn't exactly a problem, but he didn't much like going to these sorts of things alone. He mentioned this to his sister and immediately regretted it.

"Why don't you just take your hot, Chinese neighbor?" She said.

"He's _Korean_ , and we're just friends." Thomas said.

"In other words, you thought about asking him then chickened out." She replied with a raised eyebrow.

"Who asked you?" he grumbled.

"Literally you did." Teresa said in exasperation. "I think you should ask him out. He's cute, he's funny, he's smart, he's artistic, and for some reason, he likes your dumb ass."

"We're friends, T." he said. "Just drop it."

"Fine." Teresa held up her hands in surrender and going back to her food. They ate in silence for several minutes. Finally Thomas sighed.

"Okay, fine." He said. "I will invite Minho to the wedding as my _friend_ if you will shut up."

"I wasn't saying anything!" she said defensively but she was grinning from ear to ear.

…

"Hey, Minho?" he asked while cooking dinner that evening.

"Yeah?" Minho replied.

"Do you…Do you want to come to my sister's wedding with me?" he slowly looked up at the other man to gauge his reaction.

Minho's eyes widened slightly and Thomas felt a bit sick.

"You don't have to. I mean I just don't like going to those things by myself and I thought maybe you could keep me company…if you want to." He finished lamely.

"Yes." Minho said simply.

"Really?" Thomas asked. That was not his best sales pitch.

"Yeah." Minho was a bit pink about the ears but he was smiling. "It sounds like fun."

"Okay, cool." Thomas said and went back to stirring the stew he was making.

"Will I need a tux?" Minho asked a few minutes later.

"Um, yeah." Thomas said without looking up. He wished this whole business didn't make him so uncomfortable.

They ate mostly in companionable silence and Thomas found himself looking forward to this wedding business a lot more than he had before.

…

They got ready together in Minho's apartment. All this close proximity got Thomas thinking about how soft Minho's lips looked. He shook himself out of these thoughts as they headed downstairs together and to the church.

The ceremony was short and sweet. Thomas and Minho sat with their legs pressed together the whole time. When everyone filed out for the reception, they walked close to each other.

Soon enough it was time for Thomas to give his toast. He stood and cleared his throat and the room fell quiet. "I just wanted to say a few words." He began. "Twenty- five years ago, I held a squirming, purple baby in my rather unsure arms. And today, my baby sister is all grown up and getting married. If anyone could love her as much as I do it's you, Aris." He said, raising his glass to his sister and her new husband. "Take care of each other." he said and took a sip of champagne.

He sat back down next to Minho and looked over at him smiling. The other man looked rather distressed and Thomas's smile faded with concern. "You okay?" he asked softly.

Minho shook his head. "I need some air," he said. "I'll be back." And with that he took off.

When his friend didn't return after ten minutes he began to get worried and decided to go look for him, searching every room. He finally found Minho sitting in a small private prayer room.

"Minho?" he said softly. He got no response so he tried again. "Minho?"

Finally the other man looked up. He looked like he had been crying and Thomas's heart ached for him. He moved to sit next to him on a small bench at the front of the room. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"I…um." Minho began but stopped himself. "I had a sister." He said the last so softly, Thomas almost didn't hear it.

"You did?" Thomas asked.

"Yes. She would be a little younger than Teresa now, but…she died. Leukemia." Minho winced. "She's why I started illustrating, actually. She was always making up stories and making me draw the pictures to go with them. She lived a lot longer than anyone thought she would but…she finally lost the battle…it will be four years ago tomorrow."

"Oh, god. Minho, I'm so sorry." Thomas said, running a hand up and down his back. "I wish you'd told me, I wouldn't have—"

"Wouldn't have what?" Minho interrupted. "Wouldn't have blatantly loved your sister at her wedding? I don't think you can keep from that. I wouldn't have gone with you today if I expected any less."

"Why did you come?" Thomas asked. "I was pleasantly surprised before, but knowing what you were going though…"

"You seemed like you needed the support." Minho said, realizing that he was now leaning into Thomas's side. "Besides, I wasn't going to miss the sight of you in a tux."

Thomas leaned back to look at him. "I hope I didn't disappoint." He said with a smile, hoping he wasn't making the wrong move, trying to lighten the mood.

He was rewarded with a smile from Minho. "You exceeded expectations." He said.

They stared at each other for a beat before Minho's eyes dropped to Thomas's lips. Less than a second later they were kissing, neither one of them sure who had initiated it. Minho found he didn't care. He pressed closer to Thomas, licking his way into the other man's mouth.

Thomas groaned when their tongues met and pulled back. "Are you sure about this?" he asked breathlessly.

"Thomas, I have wanted to do this since we met so I've had plenty of time to think about it. Are _you_ sure?" Minho asked.

Rather than answer, Thomas kissed him. This was more desperate than the first, and when Minho sighed, Thomas seized the opportunity to plunder his mouth with his tongue. Minho groaned and wrapped his arms around Thomas until he had pulled him into his lap.

Thomas came willingly, shifting his attention from Minho's lips to his neck. He left a trail of kisses as far down as his clothes would allow then worked his way back up to his lips.

"We've been gone a long time." Minho said without completely breaking the kiss.

"Mmhm." Thomas replied absently.

"We should probably go back before someone comes looking for us." He tried again.

"In a minute." Thomas mumbled.

"Okay. In a minute." Minho agreed.

They eventually returned to the reception and Thomas found his sister sitting along the edges of the dance floor, whispering something to Aris. He went up to her and grabbed her hand.

"Dance with me." He said and hauled her to her feet. She went without comment until they began to sway together in the middle of the dance floor.

"You were gone an awfully long time." She murmured,

"Well, it turns out you were right for once." He said and dipped her suddenly, making her shriek. "He does like my dumb ass."


	6. Epilogue

Thomas presented Minho with his ticket to ComicCon the same night his publisher threw a huge party for Ava, celebrating her books second month on the best seller list. There were many great speeches about how Minho's illustrations were a big part of the book's success and many toasts and Minho loved it all.

Nothing, however, lived up to Thomas kneeling before him with an earnest look on his face, tickets being presented as if they were a rare jewel. He has said yes immediately of course.

They arrived on the convention floor early and took a walk around hand in hand. Slowly the place began to fill with people. Thomas's somewhat VIP status got them in where they wanted to go but it was still a terrible crush.

They walked around for a while aimlessly, taking in the general chaos, until they arrived in front of the room where the WICKD panel was to be held. Thomas checked his watch. "I have to head in there." He said.

"I'll be right in the front row." Minho assured him, and with a smile and a kiss they parted ways.

The panel went well. There were so many questions directed at Thomas that he hadn't even prepared for but he handled it all beautifully. About half way through, Minho noticed a small boy a few seats down staring at him.

He was grasping the hand of an older boy who looked so much like him it must be his brother but the little boy's eyes were fixed on Minho. After a few minutes of this, he slid off the seat, tore his hand away from his brother's and headed straight for Minho.

His brother was whispering loudly at him "Todd, get back here!" he hissed.

"You'd better go back over there, little buddy." Minho said, just as the older boy stood and walked at a crouch to fetch him.

"You're in my book." The little boy said.

"Your book?" Minho asked, crouching down to get at the kid's eye level.

"The Good Beetle!" he said. Minho's eyes widened. That was Ava's book. He had vaguely remembered being asked to send in a picture for the back cover. Thomas had wallowed in mock disappointment when he wouldn't let him send in one of Minho in only his sweatpants. He told Thomas that a picture he had taken standing on the bed and looking down at him wasn't appropriate for a children's book.

Anyway he was surprised the little boy recognized him. "Right you are." He said, offering his hand to the boy. "I'm Minho." He said simply. It was that time that the older boy reached him and pulled him back to their seat.

Minho refocused on the panel. When it was over the little boy, Todd, came back toward him. This time with his older brother in tow.

"I'm Kyle." The teen said. "Todd says you drew the pictures for his favorite book."

"So it seems." Minho said and took the kid's offered hand. "It's nice to meet you." Then he kneeled in front of the boy. "And very nice to meet you." He said.

Todd threw his short arms around Minho and, after a moment's shock, he returned the hug. Kyle pulled a copy of The Good Beetle out of his backpack and handed it to Todd, whispering something to him.

"Will you sign my book, Mr. Minho?" he asked.

"Of course." Minho said and took the book and the marker that Kyle offered him and signed his name neatly on the title page.

The two boys thanked him and said their goodbyes just as Thomas found him.

"What was that about?" he asked.

"A fan." Minho said.

"Here?" Thomas said. "Talk about your crossover."

"Yeah." Minho said absently. "Let's go see if we can meet John Boyega." Thomas laughed and they headed back to the convention floor again.


End file.
